


The Lost Ring

by TheNatureKing



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, idk how to tag sorry yall lol somebody help me plz, suchen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15907875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNatureKing/pseuds/TheNatureKing
Summary: After Junmyeon accuses Jongdae--his best friend, flat mate, and maid--of stealing his engagement ring, Jongdae quits and moves out. It's only when he's gone does Junmyeon realize just how much he relied on him and starts to think that maybe the ring was meant for Jongdae, after all.





	1. Impromptu Engagement

Junmyeon comes home late drunk again, but this time he’s alone—

And crying.

Jongdae sits on the counter scrolling through his Twitter feed with one hand while munching on a slice of watermelon held by the other when Junmyeon rounds the corner of the entryway. Jongdae only spares a glance of acknowledgment, thus missing the sight of his roommate with tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes, before he focuses back on his phone.

“Where’s Bora?” Jongdae asks, nonchalantly. He was used to the two stumbling home drunk _together._

Junmyeon keeps his head low and doesn’t answer. He leans against the pillar as he tries to take his shoes off without capsizing over. When he finally accomplishes the nearly impossible-whilst-intoxicated feat., he leaves them upside down and crumpling the others which Jongdae will have to straighten out later on. _Again_.

“I don’t know if you ate while you were out, but if you’re still hungry, I left a plate in the fridge. I can heat it up if you want. Just let me know.”

Anger boils inside of Junmyeon.

“Am I not worth at least a little eye contact when you speak to me?”

Jongdae looks up from his phone slowly and sets the fruit down. “What?”

Junmyeon must really be drunk because he can smell the liquor from across the room. Hard liquor. The cheap stuff.

“Junmyeon, you should go shower and go to bed, man, you look like you got beat up in a booze bar. Why the hell did you drink so much? And on a weekday?” The weekend’s right around the corner-”

“Shut up! Nobody asked you!”

Junmyeon throws his suitcase across the room and it bursts like a pinata when it connects with the balcony window. Papers and pens fly out instead of candy. Jongdae jumps down.

“What the hell, Junmyeon? Are you out of your mind?”

Junmyeon lurches forward and grabbing Jongdae by the collar. Jongdae winces, expecting a blow to a face, but it never comes. When he peaks one eye open, he finds Junmyeon breaking down and using his shirt as kleenex. Jongdae is lost.

“Um… hey, buddy, are you good?”

Junmyeon continues to sob on him. _Loud_. His drunken weight sends them stumbling back some, and the counter’s edge jabs Jongdae in the back. It takes a little bit of maneuvering (and a whole lot of strength) for Jongade to pry Junmyeon’s fingers off himself and lead him back towards the rooms. He pushes Junmyeon (perhaps with a bit too much strength) on his bed and exhales when he can finally breathe unrestricted again.

“She doesn’t- she can’t-”

Junmyeon rolls back and forth on the bed, shaking his head, whining, and mumbling about a conversation only he can hear. As he undresses him, Jongdae’s nodding, agreements, and reassurances to the problem he has zero information on is convincing.

“You’re gonna be alright, Junmyeon.”

After pulling off the last article of clothing he’s willing to touch on Junmyeon’s body (he doesn’t touch his trousers), he gathers all the clothes up into a ball. He turns to leave the room when a pair of arms slip their way around his navel.

“No, don’t go, I’m sorry! I can do better. I can be a better man. I won’t let you down, anymore. I’ll work harder! Please, don’t leave me. I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

Jongdae wants to scream, but he holds it in… until Junmyeon starts kissing his neck! Gross!

“Let me go, Junmyeon!” Jongdae shoves his elbow back and Junmyeon nearly doubles over, but his embrace tightens.

“No, I’m not letting you go. You’re mine! I love you!”

Jongdae converts the remaining watermelon nutrients in his stomach into energy and powers up. He breaks out of Junmyeon’s embrace and pushes him again, but Junmyeon clings onto his arm. Junmyeon reaches in his pocket quickly, and before Jongdae can connect two and two, Junmyeon slides a ring onto his finger.

“W-what are you doing, Junmyeon? Stop being weird!”

Junmyeon grabs his face and plays with his cheeks like dough. “I’m sorry I waited so long, but I just wanted to make sure I loved you. And now I know—I do love you.”

Jongdae swats his hands away, but Junmyeon brings them back.

“This ring means you accept my love. It means you can’t refuse me anymore,” Junmyeon says, before smashing their lips together. Jongdae short-circuits until his brain reboots seconds later, and he finally pulls away.

He slaps Junmyeon, apparently hard because the momentum is enough to send him stumbling back. He falls against the bed again, and Jongdae keeps his throbbing hand raised, ready to deliver another blow in case the drunkard makes another move. Thankfully, he doesn’t.

“What the-” Jongdae tries prying the ring off, but it won’t budge. It feels like his finger will pop off before it does, so he gives up. “You asshole,” Jongdae grumbles before leaving the man writhing in his sheets.

***

Junmyeon’s alarm is the danger alert siren his hangover brain _really_ needs at _ten in the morning_ . Another notification sounds and Junmyeon reaches around lazily for his phone until he finds it. It’s a text from Jongdae that reads, ’ _Get the hell up. Don’t oversleep for work. Asshole._ ’

Junmyeon frowns, wondering where the hostility came from.

After five more minutes of snooze, he reluctantly gets up and trudges to the bathroom. When he’s finally all dressed and ready-to-go nearly thirty minutes later, he trips over a tiny, black box. He picks it up and after opening it, his heart nearly stops.

“My ring!”

He looks everywhere for it. He turns his bed upside down, tears through his medicine cabinets in his bathroom, lifts up the couches in his living room twice, to no avail.

“Where is it?” Junmyeon growls. He calls Jongdae, but he doesn’t pick up. He’s probably still in class, Junmyeon figures. He calls into work citing an emergency and heads out to retrace his steps from the day before.

***

Jongdae forgets all about the ring between washing and drying Junmyeon’s clothes, fixing Junmyeon’s shoes, picking up and reorganizing Junmyeon’s scattered papers, waking up late, rushing to get ready, and almost missing his bus to university. On top of that, his professor is actually on time for once and kicks off class on the dot. He can’t catch a break until his professor dismisses classes early.

Jongdae’s friend, Baekhyun, plops down in the seat next to him as he packs up. Usually, they sit together in the front whenever they have class, but Jongdae had been running so late that morning he had to settle for a seat in the back.

“You’re almost never this chaotic, my precious Virgo. Wild night?” Baekhyun suggests with a wink.

Jongdae covers his face and sighs. “I don’t even want to think about last night, it was so-”

“Oh my God, is that a ring? Oh my God, did you get engaged?!”

Baekhyun’s exclamation is heard by pretty much the entire lecture hall, and it seems like everyone must have been taking their sweet time to leave today since there are more than a dozen or so pairs of eyes staring at them! Jongdae wants to disappear.

“Shut _up_ , Baekhyun. You’re too loud,” Jongdae says through gritted teeth. He smiles at the girls who shout congratulations to him and whisper amongst their friends just _how cute and lucky he is_.

Before Baekhyun and his big mouth can say anything else, Jongdae drags them outside.

“I didn’t even know you were dating anybody,” Baekhyun starts back up as soon as the sky is above them. “Who’s the lucky dude?”

“There is no dude.”

“Dudette?”

“Baekhyun!” Jongdae stops walking and Baekhyun mimics the action, albeit hesitant.

“Uh… is there another-”

“I’m not engaged, Baekhyun. This isn’t my ring!”

Baekhyun’s face is blank as he takes in the statement. “Ah, I see...” After a moment of silence and resuming their walk, he continues. “Then why are you wearing it?”

“I didn’t put it on, Junmyeon did, and-”

“Junmyeon, as in your roommate--”

“--yeah, my roommate, and I can’t take it off because it’s stuck! See?”

Jongdae tugs on the ring again. It comes right off.

He looks to Baekhyun like a child who’s just broken something and is checking to see if he was caught. Baekhyun’s smile is pretty and hides his skepticism well.

“Look’s like it’s off now, right?” he says with a small, patronizing chuckle.

“But I-” Jongdae examines the ring and his finger like a wild specimen. “I tried taking it off all night; I thought my finger was going to break off! How-”

“Who knows! Fingers are weird,” Baekhyun interrupts with a shrug. “What I want to know is why did your roommate slip an engagement ring on your finger? I mean, I knew you guys were close, but I didn’t know you two were _that_ close.”

The insinuation doesn’t go over Jongade’s head, though he chooses not to address it to save the headache.

“He was drunk last night and thought I was his girlfriend,” Jongdae explains, though there’s a hint of disbelief even in his own voice. “Like, I guess his girlfriend broke up with him or something. He was angry at me, then crying _on_ me, then holding onto me, and telling me not to leave him. Then he slipped the ring on and even ki-”

Jongdae finishes the rest quickly. “-And yeah, he was just basically really all over the place last night.”

“And he even _what_ ?” Baekhyun, sly as ever, never misses a thing. “ _Kicked_ you? We know he didn’t _kill_ you? _Kidnap_ doesn’t seem to be the right word either. Perhaps, _kiss-_ ”

“Okay, he kissed me, too! He even kissed me! There it is, out there in the open! I’m not ashamed _whatsoever!_ ”

Baekhyun looks like he’s in a competition to see who laughs last and he’s watching that video with the vibrating pineapple seed dancing along with that girl group APRIL. Before Jongdae gets a chance to ask him what the hell is so funny, he hears a familiar voice.

“Who kissed you?”

Jongdae whips around and sees Junmyeon, dressed to the nines, leaning against his black Lamborghini. The sight of the luxury car on campus is responsible for most of the aghast mouths from passersby, but Junmyeon’s appearance in and of itself is what has Jongade’s mouth gaping.

“W-what are you doing here, Junmyeon?”

(Jongdae finally hears Baekhyun laughing behind him.)

Junmyeon scoffs at the question as if the answer were obvious. “I’m here to pick you up, what else? Your class is over right?”

Jongdae’s mind was too occupied by other things to answer, such as why a group of _college_ kids had gathered around them. They were making this a _scene_! Did they not have any other classes or jobs or social events that needed rushing to? Apparently not.

(“Is that his fiance?”)

(“OMG, his fiance is cute! Wow, he’s so lucky!”)

(“AND he’s rich? Who’d he save in his past life to score this jackpot?”)

Jongdae hears the chatter. No doubt Baekhyun hears it if his obnoxious laughter were anything to go by. So, certainly (and most of all, unfortunately) Junmyeon must hear the chatter, too.

“Why do they think I’m your fiance, Jongdae?”

Junmyeon says it quietly, but the words are drenched in an indisputable coating.

“Junmyeon, I-”

“Have you seen my engagement ring, Jongdae?”

Jongdae holds out his arm. He opens his palm slowly. The engagement ring reflects a tiny beam of light right into his eye.

Junmyeon’s face remains neutral to the people onlooking, but to Jongdae his expression is a few shades darker.

“Get in the car.”

Jongdae turns to Baekhyun who’s stopped laughing. He gives Jongdae two thumbs up and a shaky smile that only means one thing to Jongdae:

_If you need help, call the police, not me!_

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Bye, Baekhyun.”

The car ride home is painfully quiet, even more so because Junmyeon is religiously against the commercialized radio so there’s no background filler to this tension. Just Junmyeon’s controlled breathing and the beating of his fingertips against his pants leg.

Junmyeon waits until they’ve entered the house to lose his cool.

He tosses his suit jacket on a bar stool and rolls up his sleeves. Jongdae has the faintest fear that Junmyeon’s going to beat him up despite knowing the older man can barely kill a spider without passing out. He rests against the same counter he had pushed Jongdae’s back into the last night while Jongdae stands awkwardly in the entryway, feeling like an unwanted guest in his own home.

“Do you need money, Jongdae?” Junmyeon starts. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Jongdae frowns. “No?”

“If you liked it, why didn't you tell me? I could have given it to you. I could have bought fifty of them and given them to you. Since we’ve lived together--no--since we’ve come to the agreement that you would live here in exchange for working for me, have I ever treated you poorly? Have I ever paid you late? Have I ever missed any payments? Was the pay not generous enough? Did I not cover your tuition free-of-charge, out of the kindness of my heart? I just don’t understand why you would--”

“--But I didn’t--”

“--There are more valuable things in the house, Jongdae! Why don’t you take them? Oh, are they too big? Can’t carry them out by yourself without being noticed? I think I… I misjudged you. Sure, last night was a moment of weakness, but I never imagined I would be taken advantage of--”

“--You know what, fuck you!”

Jongdae takes the ring he had been playing with from his pocket and throws it. It ricochets off of Junmyeon’s chest and skips across the floor somewhere.

“I’m not about to let you make me out to be some underhanded, ungrateful, greedy thief. I didn’t steal your fucking ring, you put it on me last night!”

“Why would I--”

“Because you were drunk, dumbass! You got dumped by your girlfriend--I think, actually, I’m not really sure, but that’s beside the point--and came home wasted out of your mind. You were all over me because you thought _I_ was your girlfriend and then you shoved that damn ring on my finger. I couldn’t even take it off until today! And you know what,” Jongdae says, moving closer so he can jab Junmyeon with his finger, “you fucking kissed me! _You_ . _Kissed_ . _Me_.”

Junmyeon doesn’t know which detail he should tackle first.

“Jongdae, I didn’t know--”

“And I didn’t know what was going on, _either_ , but I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. Why? I don’t know, maybe because that’s what you do to people you’re _friends_ with. But I guess I’m nothing to you besides a fucking butler or something. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain myself before you started saying all this stupid shit, but I definitely see how you feel about me now. I’m nothing more to you than a money-gurgling, gold-digging whore, huh.”

“I never called you a money-gurgling, gold-digging whore, Jongdae.”

“Well, I read between the lines, and that’s what I heard.”

After a beat of silence, Jongdae moves towards the closet.

“What- what are you doing?”

Jongdae, after throwing out a bunch of coats and shoes behind him, pulls out a giant suitcase.

“I’m leaving,” Jongdae says. He starts for the rooms but Junmyeon grabs his arm.

“What do you mean? You can’t just leave--”

“Why the hell can’t I?” Jongdae asks, challenging him with his glare.

Junmyeon wavers. “B-because. You haven’t cleaned up the house today. I won’t pay you if--”

Jongdae laughs, and it’s painful for both of them, but for different reasons.

“Are you kidding me?” Jongdae asks, his pitch so high his voice almost comes out softly. “I _quit_ , Junmyeon. Fuck your money.”

Jongdae breaks free out of his grip, but Junmyeon grabs the suitcase handle instead.

“I paid for this suitcase.”

Junmyeon isn’t looking at Jongdae’s face when he says it. He’s looking at the hand on the suitcase he now faintly remembers slipping a ring over.

Jongdae huffs and as he looks at his distorted image in the marble ceilings, he wonders how he could have ever thought that this place was ever _his_ , how he could have called this place _home_.

Jongdae grabs the backpack he came up with and leaves without another word.

***


	2. Turned Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after sucks for everyone.

Saturday morning.

Jongdae had liked to make a big breakfast on the weekends because it had reminded him of home, so Junmyeon had always awoken to the savory smell of sizzling bacon and buttermilk pancakes. He would waltz into the kitchen, bedhead, pajamas, and all, and Jongdae would give him the softest smile in the world.

“Good morning, Junmyeon. Sleep well?” he would say.

And Junmyeon would reply, “I did,” even if he hadn’t because seeing Jongdae under the serene glow of morning and donned in a pink apron had made up for any nighttime hours spent tossing and turning. 

The pink apron with a kitty pattern had actually been a present from Junmyeon’s mother intended for Bomi, but everyone knew Bomi couldn’t even cook rice without burning it, so the gift had gone to someone a little bit more suitable. Junmyeon had been pleasantly surprised by how well Jongdae pulled it off, but then again, Junmyeon couldn’t remember an outfit where Jongdae hadn’t looked good. Jongdae always looked good.

The best part of waking up to a big breakfast was having someone Junmyeon liked to eat it with, and Jongdae definitely fit that criterion. Jongdae and he could talk about everything and anything. They could talk about the weather, and the conversation would still be lively, full of jokes and laughter, discovery and wonder.

Junmyeon could never have that with Bomi. Their topics had been limited to work, politics, gossip over her friends’ lives, or pretty much anything related to her own life. Whenever Junmyeon had talked about his interests, there was a lot more  _ mhmm’s _ , a lot more yawning, a lot more  _ well, anyway’s _ . Junmyeon’s life had never been intriguing enough for her—deep down somewhere he had known that—and yet; for almost two years, he had continued to see her. Junmyeon couldn’t even remember what he had seen in her each time they met for dinner, or for functions, or for drinks. Her form-fitting dresses never awed him like the simple yet nifty ‘fits Jongdae could throw together.

“Do you want to go shopping today?”

After breakfast, Junmyeon and Jongdae got dressed and went out to run any errands that needed to be taken care of, and once those were complete, they were free to hit the town. 

Jongdae, despite having Junmyeon and his wallet at his beck and call, never did much shopping than the average buyer. He would pick out maybe a shirt that stood out to him, b ut he made sure they never left a store unless Junmyeon had bought something, too. (Bomi had always shopped till she dropped and Junmyeon was the designated “bag man”.)

“Is there anything else you want to do?”

The two competed to be the first ones to ask. If there was something either of them wanted to do, they would do it. If there wasn’t, they would go back home. As long as they could keep each other company, no matter what they did, they would be fine. Their Saturdays spent together were what Junmyeon looked forward to most.

It was a shame he couldn’t say the same about this Saturday.

Junmyeon spends his Saturday morning and afternoon in bed, just thinking. Thinking about the past. The events of the previous night. Everything. 

He would rather have his hangover again than the muggy feeling he has in chest.

His phone buzzes on his chest. Had it been a few hours earlier, he would have checked it like his life depended on it. Jongdae had ignored all nineteen of his calls from last night and all eleven of his long-paragraph text messages from this morning, and none of that had made any sense to Junmyeon. 

Surely there was something Jongdae needed from his room, Junmyeon had thought, but his anticipation for Jongdae’s response had only resulted in too many letdowns for his heart to handle in the short span of time. Instead of what he hoped for, Junmyeon’s notifications were littered with pointless emails and reminders for apps he had only opened once.

By the time Junmyeon raises his phone to his face, twenty minutes have passed. 

“Fuck!”

He shoots up way too quickly for his brain to handle. He reads the text again after wiping the crust from his eyes.

_ I’m sorry about the other night, Junmyeon. We need to talk. I’m coming over. _

Junmyeon trips out bed after untangling himself from his sheets and runs to his bathroom. 

It’s already been twenty-minutes, he could be here any second, Junmyeon thinks frantically. He combines some cleanup steps, skips some others, and is just getting out of the shower when he hears three knocks on the door.

Junmyeon is overwhelmed with happiness (so much so that he forgets Jongdae has his own key). He gives himself a quick once-over in the mirror before making sure the towel wrapped around his waist is secure. He clears his throat, relaxes his face, and opens the door to-

“Took you long enough.”

Junmyeon flinches and his towel undoes itself a bit. He scrambles to cover himself, but the woman that walks past him rolls her eyes, unbothered.

“It isn’t anything I haven’t seen before, Junmyeon, please.”

Junmyeon’s eyes follow her to the kitchen. The white, long-sleeved dress that hugs her body had probably been purchased on Junmyeon’s dime. Overall, she still looks the same, aside from her new cut—an angled bob, but of course, most people don’t change drastically in the span of two days.

“B-Bomi?”

The woman in question pauses and looks around. 

“Where’s that Jongdae kid?”

“What are you doing here, Bomi?”

She quirks a brow. “Did you not get my message, Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon fixes tightening his towel and prays it actually sticks this time.

“What message?”

Then it hits him. In the wake of his eagerness, Junmyeon hadn’t realized to check who the sender of the message was from, and seeing as Bomi was standing in front of him instead of the “kid” he had wanted to see, her “sudden, unexpected” appearance had made a little bit more sense. Damn.

Bomi laughs at Junmyeon’s sigh. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re disappointed, now.”

Junmyeon gives one last look into the hall before closing the door with a frown. “Of course not. What are you doing here, Bomi?”

Bomi sets her purse down and sits on the stool Jongdae always sits in.

“To talk. Like I said in the text I sent you.”

“About?” Junmyeon crosses his arms and Bomi is shameless in her staring.

“Whew.” She giggles and fans herself. “Care to put on some clothes?”

Junmyeon blinks. “No.”

Licking her lips and nodding, knowingly, she says, “I see. I’ll make this quick then.”

Junmyeon stands his ground, even as she invades his personal space and touches his arm lightly. “I’m willing to give you a second chance. I think I at least owe you that. Let’s try this again, what do you say?”

Junmyeon already had his answer. He had known the moment he realized the person standing outside of his door wasn’t the one he wanted to see. He should have known yesterday morning when he realized he hadn’t thought about Bomi at all, despite having broken up the previous night. He should have known every Saturday before today, when he smiled, laughed, and looked forward to the most with the person he wasn’t dating.

“No.”

“Maybe this will change your mind.”

Bomi leans in, but Junmyeon stops her, his hands on her shoulders gently holding her back.

“Please don’t do this, Bomi. You said so yourself, we’re over. Let’s stay how we are now.”

The sound of the doorknob rattling catches Junmyeon off guard, and as it opens revealing Jongdae, he accidentally pushes Bomi away from him too roughly. Bomi stumbles over her heels and falls.

“Hey!” Jongdae shouts, shoving Junmyeon back. “What the hell are you doing? Putting your hands on a woman, you should be ashamed!”

Junmyeon raises his hands in defense. “No, I-”

“Stay the fuck back, or I swear to God,” Jongdae hisses.

Jongdae helps Bomi to her feet, and she thanks him.

“Are you okay?”

Bomi bobs her head, unable to form words, still being in shock herself at falling rather than Junmyeon pushing her.

“You sure?” Jongdae lifts her chin and makes sure she doesn’t have any scratches or bruises on her face.

Junmyeon is annoyed seeing them that close, but more so annoyed that Jongdae would assume he would hit another person.

“I-I’m fine, Jongdae, it was just a little push, is all,” Bomi says.

“ _ Just a little _ ?” Jongdae turns to Junmyeon, glowering. “--What the hell were you thinking, Junmyeon?” He then notices his apparel, or rather lack of apparel. Junmyeon can see the horrific speculations building up in Jongdae’s head through the way his face morphs into pure contempt. “ _ Were you _ \--”

“No! Jongdae, that isn’t it all!” Bomi screams, nails digging into his arm as she holds him back. She is appalled herself by the insinuation.

Junmyeon knows how he must look when he says it, but he doesn’t care. He takes a deep breath and says it again, ignoring the way his throat makes him sound all choked up and weak.

“ **_GET OUT!_ ** ”

Bomi grabs her purse and struggles to pull a startled Jongdae away. “Come on. Let’s go. Just leave him alone.”

Even before the door shuts, Junmyeon is sinking to the floor, sobbing.

Outside the door, the two can hear him clear as day. Bomi is flustered—nearly distraught—at the swift turn of events, and Jongdae, after she shoots off a quick explanation, feels like he’s going to be sick on the spot. Jongdae slides down the wall, beating himself up in his head over and over. Bomi sits quietly for only half-an-hour before she gets sick and tired of the hall’s flickering fluorescent lighting. She hauls Jongdae’s ass up and drags him down to the elevator.

“There’s no point in wallowing,” Bomi says on the descend down. “Are you hungry, Jongdae? Let’s grab something to eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey, y'all. Idk what came over me with this chapter lol. anyway, if you wanna yell or interact with me elsewhere, my twitter handle is the same as my author name :) hope you liked this chapter! I try to respond to every comment as they all mean a lot! Thank you for reading! Love you! 
> 
> (p.s. also! I apologize for the shortness! I didn't want to disrupt the mood I left on haha!)


	3. Ex's and Oh's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, here’s one: You and Junmyeon—have you ever slept with each other?”

Jongdae's Saturday should have gone differently. At least, when he woke up that morning, he had _planned_ for it to go differently.

He had slept the night on Baekhyun’s floor and while he was down there, he had a lot of time to think.

Junmyeon and he had rarely fought, and the very few times they did, it had always been blown out of proportion. Junmyeon was a bottler, and a lot of his true thoughts only surfaced when he was drunk or fed up to the point where he couldn’t contain it. Usually, at that point, it was little things that set him off, and the confusion that came with Junmyeon’s overload sent Jongdae on high-alert. Truth be told, Jongdae was a bull of a defender, and when he saw red, there always ended up being more messes to clean up than they initially started with. After the smoke cleared, the feeling of dread and stupidity settled in quick, but the biggest obstacle in their reconciliation was none other than their pride.

Example #1: Jongdae ignores all nineteen of Junmyeon’s calls from Friday night and all eleven of his long-paragraph text messages that had woken him up Saturday morning. He reads them and listens to the voicemails Junmyeon leaves, of course, but he doesn’t respond. _I’ll make him squirm a little_ , Jongdae thinks.

“When are you going to give up the act and go back home to your future husband?” Baekhyun had asked.

Jongdae is smug when he tells him, “I know what I’m doing.”

Baekhyun had rolled his eyes. “If you say so. Better not prolong it too long, I don’t know if I can feed three mouths.”

“Three mouths? Who else are you feeding?”

Baekhyun had grinned. “That’s a secret.”

Jongdae had tried wrestling the truth out of him, but Baekhyun had managed to keep up.

“I’ll tell you about the guy I met _after_ you go back home and kiss and make up with that delectable hunk-of-a-roommate of yours.”

“He’s already begging for me to come back,” Jongdae had snickered. “I have to milk this while I have the opportunity. You just wait, and then later we can share our stories.”

“Your’s better be funny,” Baekhyun had warned.

“It will be,” Jongdae had replied, but maybe he should have paid more attention to Baekhyun’s warning because hours later, nothing about what had transpired between him and Junmyeon had been “funny”.

***

_Why did you come back?_

_Why did you think the worst of him?_

_Why did you…_

“Jongdae, are you listening to me?”

Jongdae lifts his head from the window and rolls it around until he’s facing the woman. “Hmm?”

Her mouth parts, but only a sigh passes her lips. She focuses back on the road in front of her, and the car accelerates forward at the turn of the light.

Jongdae doesn’t shift his attention away from her; instead, he looks for a single flaw in her seemingly perfect appearance.

Her hair is styled differently from whenever Jongdae saw her last—was that about a month ago?—and true to her character, not a single strand of her angled, jet-black bob is out of place which, when considering all the events that had transpired within the last hour, deserves to be acknowledged, at least. In fact, most of her profile is hidden behind her hair… until it’s not. Until she tilts her head slightly in his direction, and her perfectly sharp _everything_ comes into view—her shapely eyebrows, her hypnotic eyes, her untouchable jawline.

Jongdae knows her words could be sharp, too. He’s overheard her and Junmyeon arguing a couple of times before in the past, and he can honestly say he would never want to be on the opposing side of her wrath. Her ability to (and not simply the fact that she could, but the _ease_ in which she could) wound others so directly regardless of her relationship with them and with just a string of well-calculated words, no less, had been a sobering experience.

If gorgeous and deadly were mixed together, she would be the result. He’s heard of her being described as some type of _Ice Queen_ by some of Junmyeon’s friends, but Jongdae had never felt like that was quite accurate. She was a step above the current standard of “queens” nowadays; her presence and her grace alone had outmatched them. _Queen Slayer_ is what Jongdae silently preferred.

_Why did you come back?_

The woman faces Jongdae as soon as the thought crosses his mind, and she squints, almost as she’s asking the same thing. Why did _you_ come back, Jongdae?

“We’re here. Get out.”

Jongdae sits up straight. “What? Hey, where are we—”

The door shutting cuts him off. Jongdae looks out the window and judging by the abundance of high-rises, he comes to the conclusion that they’re either in a different part of the wealthy neighborhood Junmyeon and he—that Junmyeon lives in—or in another high-end part of the city he has absolutely no business being in while looking like how does now. He’s really wishing he had taken Baekhyun’s advice this morning and put a little bit more effort into his outfit choice as the hideous, bright-yellow sweatshirt and black sweatpants he donned weren’t exactly cutting it.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at his window.

“Hurry up, Jongdae, let’s go!”

“No! I look ugly!” Jongdae shouts back.

The sight of her face falling and shoulders dropping loosely reminds Jongdae of his older sister.

“Get out, Jongdae,” she demands, and even if her voice is muffled by the rolled up window, the edge it still holds rattles his core. Jongdae shakes his head.

She rolls her eyes and before Jongdae knows what’s going on, she’s already opened the door and is reaching over him, trying to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“What- no, stop it!” Jongdae protests. He does his best trying to keep the buckle covered, but her freakishly strong grip nearly leaves him with severed fingers as she peels them away like the skin off of a banana. Jongdae cries of pain turn into startling yelps as he’s dragged from his seat and pulled to the ground. He lands hard with somehow his legs in the air.

“What the heck, Bora?” Jongdae whines. He feels humiliated by everyone staring as they walk past.

“B-Bora? Who the hell is Bora?” Not-Bora(?) kicks Jongdae’s side with her _sharp_ heels and Jongdae yelps again, rolling on his side and covering himself with his arms.

“Is that not your name? How could you kick a man when he’s already down?” he whimpers with a little pout. Staring up at her from the ground, Angry-Not-Bora(?) convinces Jongdae that maybe God is indeed a woman.

“I’ve been Junmyeon’s girlfriend for how long and you still don’t know my name?”

“Junmyeon never really talked about you so, I don’t know, I guess it’s never really stuck.”

Definitely-Not-Bora(?)’s glare softens and she looks elsewhere.

“Get up,” she says, changing the subject, “you’re drawing attention.”

Sorry-I-Thought-Your-Name-Was-Bora(?) helps Jongdae to his feet and wrinkles her nose at his dirty clothes.

“You should really change—”

“—This is _your_ fault—”

“— _You_ should’ve known my name—”

“—Well, I’m sorry—”

“Let’s just go.”

Jongdae follows Still-Sorry-For-Thinking-You-Were-Bora about two blocks to a building where he has to crane his neck back to see the top of it. They walk through a large, lively lobby and Jongdae just _knows_ there are people staring at him—or… them. He forgets Wait-What-Is-Your-Name-If-It-Is-Not-Bora draws attention in her own right with her looks. A pretty woman like her in a perfectly clean and crisp, white dress next to an unruly-haired man like Jongdae in a (perhaps, tacky) colorful yet dusty ensemble must have been an odd contrast, he thinks.

They stop at an elevator and Back-To-Not-Bora pushes one of the higher numbered buttons.

“What’s on the eighth floor? Do you live here or something?”

Not-Bora looks at him out of the corner of her eye, smiling. “I told you let’s get something to eat, didn’t I?”

Realization sets in and Jongdae’s brows shoot up in panic. “Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t bring my wallet with me—”

“Don’t worry about it, Jongdae. It’s my treat.”

Jongdae frowns, following her into the elevator. “No, I can’t let you do that. I—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Jongdae. I’m buying you lunch. End of discussion.”

The final _look_ she sends him has him shuddering and leaves no more room for objections. _Her power_ , Jongdae thinks.

***

“My name is Bomi, by the way. _Not_ Bora.”

Jongdae blinks owlishly with his cheeks bulging full of a delicious four-star hamburger. Bomi quirks a brow, waiting for a response, as she stares down her wine glass at him. Jongdae maybe thinks he swallows too early, but after forcing everything down he— drinks a glass of water first — he chucks up a peace sign.

“Hi, Bomi!”

Bomi chokes on her wine and ends up spraying it across the table and all over Jongdae. She laughs while Jongdae wipes himself down and whines about his sweater being ruined.

“One wash cycle and it’ll be just as new,” Bomi says as sincerely as she can between trying to catch her breath.

“Least you care,” Jongdae says, chuckling, “Junmyeon would’ve already snapped a picture of me if he was here.”

Jongdae freezes. “I—” He takes a labored breath.

“We should talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Jongdae says with a plastic smile, but also holding his head back and blinking rapidly.

“That is a good question. Where do we start?” Bomi asks, tapping her chin. After a moment of “pondering”, she leans forward.

“Oh, here’s one: You and Junmyeon—have you ever slept with each other?”

Jongdae's eyes are still wide as saucers even when she repeats it for him.

“Uh… the answer to that question is one hundred percent _no_ , what the heck? Why would you even ask that?”

“Ever kissed?”

“No—” Jongdae’s mind and expression betray him as the memories of Junmyeon drunk-kissing him... and _that_ time… and that _other time_ from years and even more years ago flash through his mind. “Well… not while you were dating,” Jongdae clarifies, though even then, he feels like that only makes it sound worse.

Bomi sits up in her seat. She crosses her arms, tilts her head, and purses her lips.

“Tell me about them. The times you kissed Junmyeon. I already know of one of them, but I—”

“—You _do_?”

“—but I won’t say which. So just talk. Let’s have a storytime.”

Jongdae clenches his jaw. He hated feeling cornered. “If I do, what will you tell me?”

Bomi smirks. “I paid for dinner, didn’t I?”

Gorgeous, deadly, _and tactical._ Jongdae had to give it to her.

“Okay. I’ll talk.”


End file.
